


I'll Tell You How the Sun Rose a Ribbon At a Time

by ohvienna



Category: Fringe, V (2009)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/F, Female Characters, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvienna/pseuds/ohvienna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olivia and Erica, mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Tell You How the Sun Rose a Ribbon At a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 1/2/2011 on Livejournal.

Mornings hold three possibilities:

1) Olivia quietly eases her way out of bed before that 6:30am alarm even goes off (its incessant beeping always signaling the start of a day that will likely bring some new horror upon them both). Erica will sometimes shift, and curl into herself. That damn need to be back on the job, back in Boston. A four hour journey almost any which way you slice it. Sometimes it's just a matter of running out the door and to her car (because Erica had called and she'd hopped behind the wheel and just drove, leaving voicemails about Massive Dynamic and meetings and, no, this couldn't be done over the phone). Four hours one way, and Walter and Peter will be wondering where she is (again). Olivia's running out of excuses.

2) She'll be downstairs already, getting more and more familiar with the location of all the mugs (she always goes for the one with the FBI logo emblazoned on the side, Erica being partial to the Zabar's), with which drawer contained the spoons, and which cupboard the sugar (for Erica) hid inside. Olivia made a nice cup of coffee, never too light, if anything sometimes too strong. Her skills seemed to be limited to that and the fine art of cereal pouring (Erica had smiled to herself at this thought once).

3) Olivia's still lying next to her in the morning, head turned to the side, waiting. Sun pouring through the curtains, bright and warm, or rain pounding the windows. They'd lay there, both finally awake, neither one of them wanting to move out of reach. Some free time (but never that much to spare), and they'd cling to it. Sometimes just long enough to repeat the night, but it'd be enough. For a while.

One thing was always true.

Erica never woke up first.


End file.
